The Day named 'Fate'
by Atheniandream
Summary: Knowing how and when to take your path, what to choose, and what to lose…


TITLE: That day named 'fate'

RATING: PG (UK-er Here… nothing more than tackle-behaviour. No 'members' Teehee.

WARNINGS: Spoilers for SOS in terms of LOCKE and Character Development.

PAIRING Locke/Claire, Mention of Hurley/Libby

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SUMMARY: Knowing how and when to take your path, what to choose, and what to lose…

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It always starts this way… that day, that day, what a mess, what a marvel…

That day Claire had heard from around the camp that he was back from the hatch for good. She hadn't quite believed the last part; that a man so focused in unlocking the mysteries of a solid underground hideout, had finally emerged, and yet no news of any significant events had emerged with him.

As she watched by a sleeping Aaron, the calm sea gently soothing the beaches in front of her she waited. Half wanting to see him just to find out if he would say anything to her, and half feeling the need to busy herself and ignore the big pink elephant walking around the island.

Everything about this place confused her. Charlie. His attentiveness towards her and the baby to the point of obsession; and misconstruing a simple friendship to the point of her disconnecting from the one person who had wanted to help her and look after her on the Island. Charlie had been her saviour, her helper and guardian, but too much involved in her to be healthy for someone she'd not long met as a result of a life-changing event.

He had become too much, too close, too bent on being her protector when she didn't need to be.

"Claire?"

And there he was…the other man in question. She flickered a gaze at him, a bemused expression before seeing him return a frown and then looked down towards the sand beneath them.

"John. Um… Hey."

"Hey."

Well this is oddly awkward… She thought. It had been so long since their comfortable conversations, his quiet look-ins on her and Aaron as he jollied his way around the island, and comfortable feeling in knowing that at the end of the day, more than likely he would be there to watch over her as the night took over. But now that had changed.

"How's the walking?" Her voice delicate, watching him move down the bed, she watched quietly as he perched on one end, wincing as he placed the crutches on the floor.

"Better." Was all he could say. The days of agony were now over at least, and after the talk with Rose, he felt more focused on his goal to walk again. "How have you both been?"

"Good. Aaron's calm for change."

"And you?"

"I can…take care of myself." Feeling a hint or anger lace her words for reasons she herself couldn't explain, she lightened her expression. "So… why are you here?"

He Frowned again… she elaborated.

"I mean… you've been down there, in the hatch for a long time… why are you back?"

The while that it took for him to answer made her unsure whether he was making one up to spare her or himself. He smirked slightly and his eyes twinkled against the sharp sunlight but he didn't look at her.

"I… didn't find what I was looking for."

"What were you looking for, John?"

"The Truth."

All at once she understood and yet didn't truly know what he was grasping at. In some ways she didn't care.

She knew one thing though.

Just as Charlie had been hopelessly tied to her… she was inevitably drawn to the mysterious John Locke.

"So how's it all been up here?"

"Oh, okay. Hurley and Libby are now the young lovers of the island, everyone else seems to just float along…Kate and Sun keep taking shifts to watch in on me… I think they think I'm younger than I actually am or that I can't handle it. It's nice though, having someone here every now and then."

"I'm sorry I haven't been back much." She could feel the warmth in his eyes, reflect in hers, but she refused to let it faze her.

"It's not like I can go padding into the jungle with Aaron on my hip…"

"You're very capable, Claire."

"I know. But thanks…" She smiled; embarrassed at her forwardness, and instead offering up something that had been on her mind… more so lately. "Before I came here, when I realised I would be alone and had decided to give the baby away; a man… a psychic, told me that I had to raise Aaron alone. That I had to take care of him, have my influence on him and mine alone, and that no other person could be involved and if that happened he would be in danger."

"Why were you on the plane?"

"I went back and tried to get him to tell me more… he tried but, something freaked him out. Something he knew, that he refused to tell me. About a month after, he kept calling my house, said that he had a couple, in Los Angeles, who would take the baby, a couple that he would be safe with. He got the ticket and said that they would be waiting to collect me at the airport."

She burnt in anguish as she relived it, the insistence in the psychic's voice; the belief that he conjured for her that she took as one slither of hope.

"There was no couple?"

"Nope… He knew. He knew this was going to happen. For all I know he knew about this place, about Aaron getting sick…god knows what else. It frightens me John… I don't think Aaron is safe here… But I know I have to be the one to look after him. And… Charlie was getting too close, too focused on Aaron and-"

"And you think I'm …"

"I care about you John. I enjoy you being here, but."

"I'm getting too close."

"Yea."

She chose the wrong time to steal a gaze… he was already staring at her. His eyes pierced and narrow, wrinkles deepening as if trying to let truth out, and little light…in…

"Well I should go then." He said, trying to be as helpful as he could.

"Yea… John?" She caught his attention, making him shift back into his original position.

"What, Claire?"

For a second her mind fell into quiet disarray, and then one arm stretched, the rest of her body following toward it. Her hand grazed the side of his face; feeling the rough hair under his cheekbone, she closed her eyes…feel the moist warmth of her smooth lips against the welcoming roughness of his skin.

It was only a peck on the cheek. Albeit a lingered peck on the cheek…a small gesture shared by many to mean so much, and be so little. The smell of him burnt at her nostrils and the taste of him lingered gently on her lips and flushed cheeks.

And right there… she started to miss him all over again…

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_To taste, to tear, to drop_

_To see it there as if a cloud could carry it on high, _

_To taste, to tear, to, fly_

To feel those wings, and see them die… 

_These are the words that chime in song, _

_And these will be the loves that can be broken, so soon…so wrong…_


End file.
